


A Helping Hand

by Infie



Series: Five Times Ollie Got Laid, One Time Oliver Made Love [5]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Cheating, Explicit Sex, First Time, Humour, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Sex and Drugs, Swearing, Unrepentant Ollie Smut, pre-island oliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 23:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3668571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infie/pseuds/Infie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy woke with a raging hard-on, an incipient hangover, and the compete certainty that whatever he’d done last night, he’d fucked up big time.  Still, it was all Ollie’s fault, so it was only fair that he help fix the problems.<br/><i>All</i> the problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a lot more humour oriented than the others, not least because Tommy is just a funny, irreverent guy. I loved Tommy so much.

  


* * *

Tommy woke with a raging hard-on, an incipient hangover, and the compete certainty that whatever he’d done last night, he’d fucked up big time. 

His first clue was the fact that his head was pillowed Ollie’s stomach and was face to face with Ollie’s dick. Which was just as hard as his. 

“Jesus Christ!” He jerked away and hit his head hard on the underside of the coffee table he was half-under. “Shit!” 

“Keep it down!” Ollie groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. “And turn off the lights, for fuck sake.” 

“That light is the sun,” Tommy retorted, rubbing his head. He checked his hand. No blood, which was a nice surprise. 

“Oh.” Ollie tried to roll onto his stomach and winced as his erection got in the way. “Ow.” He flopped back to his back. “Ow, again.” 

“I think that must have been an awesome party.” Tommy looked around at the detritus covering his living room floor with a combination of dismay and pride. “I really wish I could remember it better.” 

Ollie lifted his head half-heartedly. “I remember… shots? Tequila? Panic, at least once. Possibly police, but since we aren’t in jail, I may have just hallucinated that part.” 

Tommy lifted a bottle of Cuervo off the floor beside him. “Tequila, check,” he said, then quaffed the last dregs. It burned on the way down but the threatening headache almost immediately became merely foreboding. “I wonder where everyone is.” 

“Oh, that I remember. You kicked everyone out at like five am, said something about your dad being back today.” Ollie let his head thump back on the floor, wincing. “I don’t think that is good news. Might explain the panic, actually.” 

Tommy’s heart stopped in his chest. “What?” His voice came out at a pitch that could only be described as a squeak. 

Ollie just shrugged. He hadn’t seemed to notice that he was buck naked, or maybe he just didn’t care. Tommy watched him raise a hand and idly stroke his dick and decided that ‘didn’t care’ won. 

He looked around the mess, saw his phone on the coffee table and grabbed it, checking messages frantically. He felt lightheaded with terror when he saw the message from his father _coming in at noon have house ready_ and then even more dizzy with relief when he saw the follow-up from that morning, _weather delay. Still coming though, so don’t get too happy. Arriving tomorrow. Enjoy your reprieve._

Fuck. Even in text messages his father could sound cold, prescient, and scary. He dragged himself to a nice clean spot on the carpet, in the shade, and just collapsed in a grateful, pained heap. 

“Tommy?” Ollie sounded confused and a little put out. 

Tommy grunted. 

“What did I _do_ last night? I feel like shit. And … weird.” His hand was still moving on his erection. “Weirder than usual when I wake up naked on a floor at your place, and that’s really saying something.” 

Tommy ignored that part and scanned Ollie briefly. “Based on your stamps, I’d say … a tab of E, a couple hits of coke,” the smear of pale lipstick on Ollie’s hip caught his eye, “… a blonde or a very shy brunette, possibly both, and …” he squinted, “a Viagra.” 

“A _what_?” 

“Viagra,” Tommy repeated before the relevance reached his brain. “Oh. Oh, dear.” He looked at his own chest, and sure enough, along with a pretty green ‘E’ and three lovely yellow cloud stamps on his left pec was a bright blue ‘V’. “In my defense, I’m pretty sure they’re _your_ dad’s.” He tried to ignore the fact that his own dick was hard enough to be tight against his stomach, bobbing at him optimistically every time his abs tightened. Ignoring it failed, and he lifted his hand to give it a consoling pat. "That's the last time I let you bring drugs for the bowl, Ollie." 

“How is that a defense?” Ollie was making a valiant effort to sound outraged but mostly he just came across as high and horny. 

“It makes it all your fault, actually.” Tommy told him stoutly. “We both know my father would never use Viagra. He’d just glare his dick into cooperating out of terror.” 

“Eh,” Ollie conceded the point. 

“And I vaguely remember, 'just take one', you said, ‘It’ll be fun!’, you said.” 

“That does sound like me,” Ollie snickered and then wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I smell terrible." 

"Showers all around," he agreed. "You can use the one in my dad's room. Just don't use his bar of soap. One, he notices, like, I think he actually _measures_ it or something equally disturbing, and two, I don't want to think of the soap that touches my dad's ass touching your junk." They each rolled reluctantly to their feet, with much groaning. 

"I find it disturbing that you're discussing thinking about my junk." Ollie dragged himself fully upright and pushed his hair back from his face with both hands. 

"I was more dismayed by the image of my dad’s ass. As for your junk, well, it is all…" Tommy gestured descriptively, " _out there_ right now." 

Ollie looked down. "Point," he said with a smirk and headed for Malcolm's room. 

"Terrible," Tommy retorted before following him to his own bedroom, the next door down. 

The shower felt _amazing_ , the water pounding cheerfully over his neck and shoulders and helping with the headache and generally sore crappy feeling that came from passing out on the floor, even one with as nice a carpet as his living room had. He gave his hair a quick shampoo and the rest of his body an equally quick wash before deliberately soaping up his hands and reaching for his stubborn erection. The slick glide of the soap felt great and he snuck one hand down to his balls. He concentrated, focussing on the last gorgeous woman he'd gone home with and all the fantastic noises she'd made. 

His dick seemed thrilled with the manual stimulation but utterly uninterested in climbing any higher towards an orgasm. 

Tommy shuffled through a few other recent conquests with an equal lack of success, before he bit his lip and went for his most secret, absolutely bulletproof kink… Laurel, on her knees, waving her ass at him, begging him to get her off. 

That finally got him the reaction he was looking for. Pleasure started to coil at the base of his spine. Laurel had just turned in his imagination and started sliding her mouth onto him eagerly when the water started to go cold. 

"Sonofafuckingbitch!" He rinsed off fast and leaped out of the shower. His father really was the strangest goddamned guy. He had billions in capital and still insisted that his water heater be fucking smurf-sized. He heard Ollie's answering bellow from the next door bathroom and laughed. 

A quick towelling off later, he sprawled on his back on his bed and contemplated the hell that was his life right at this very instant. His dick hurt, his balls hurt, his _head_ hurt, and now he was cold. An equally grumpy Ollie appeared at the door, still soaking wet and with some shampoo bubbles on his neck, a towel tucked loosely across his hips. He stomped across the room and threw himself on the bed beside Tommy. 

"Your father is a cock," Ollie muttered darkly. "Who has showers that only have hot water for eight damned minutes?" 

"He feels that cold showers are bracing or some damn bullshit. You didn't manage to get off, eh?" Tommy felt a spike of vindictive glee at the sight of the tent in Ollie's towel. It made him feel better about the continuing grief his own dick was giving him. Right now it lay taut against his stomach, its one eye staring at him accusingly. He looked away, feeling obscurely guilty for not making it feel better. 

"No." Ollie’s mouth was set in an affronted frown. “The cold water interrupted me just as it was getting good.” He swiped at the smear of bubbles on his shoulder and flicked them at Tommy in annoyance. “I didn’t even get to finish rinsing my hair!” 

"I reiterate," Tommy began imperiously, blowing the clump of bubbles off his nose with an exaggerated huff of breath. "That this is entirely and completely your fault, Mr. Queen, and as such you must provide reparations. I will take my justice in the form of an orgasm." 

Ollie lifted his head and gave him a look of utter astonishment. "Wait, _what_?" 

Tommy turned his nose to the ceiling, refusing to laugh. "You heard me." 

"You want me to … get you off. Like, touch your cock until you come. Is that right?" Ollie could not have sounded more dumbfounded if he was saying that Tommy'd suggested lighting each other on fire. Which, now that he thought of it, he might actually have done at one memorable party involving sambucca and body shots. 

"Yep." Tommy popped the 'p' deliberately. "And remember, you have a reputation to uphold. So," he wiggled his hips, making his dick bob hopefully. "Come on, Queen. Wow me." 

" _Wow you._ " Ollie sounded as if he might be mid-aneurysm. Tommy just waited in silence, staring at the ceiling. After a long minute, the bed jiggled as Ollie tossed his towel and rolled onto his side. Tommy grinned. "Fine," Ollie declared. "Just keep in mind I haven't done this before. And, we shall never speak of this again." 

"Naturally. Not speaking of it is included by definition. But don't start putting in caveats about your quality already. I expect you to be a prodigy, what with all the solo practice you've had," Tommy said, "but I have to say, so far I'm not impress…" 

Ollie's hand… his _very large_ hand, closed around his dick and gave it a squeeze. 

Tommy's voice choked off into an embarrassing whine as his body seized up. Experimentally, Ollie gave a small stroke and all his breath left his body in a rush. His hips bucked up into Ollie's hand. It hurt a little. 

"Ah, _awesome._ Also, ow." 

"Hmmm." Ollie sounded intrigued at his reaction. "Maybe you’re on to something here." He let Tommy go, ignoring his mutter of complaint, and turned to the other side of the bed, rummaging in the bedside table and coming up with a bottle of personal lubricant triumphantly. "Peach flavoured, Merlyn?" 

"Back to work, Queen," Tommy retorted breathlessly. "Heh. Queen." 

"Shut up." Ollie squirted a generous portion of lube into his hand before setting the bottle aside. He rubbed it between his palms and reached for Tommy's dick again, less tentatively this time. 

It. Felt. _Amazing._

Ollie's hand was bigger than his and a lot bigger than any of the women who'd given him any kind of hand job. Tommy was gratified to note that it still didn't cover his whole length, but the parts that were encompassed were busy singing hallelujahs at how good it felt. The lubricant made everything beautifully slippery, and as Ollie carefully stroked up it didn't hurt at all. Tommy gasped. Ollie moved his hand back down and he couldn't help but press up into the stroke. He fisted his hands into the comforter and closed his eyes. "Tighter, Ollie," he said through gritted teeth. 

Ollie said nothing but tightened his grip and moved into an easy rhythm that had Tommy thrusting up against the pressure and damned near panting. He asked, "Faster?" 

Tommy nodded helplessly and Ollie sped up the pace. It felt fantastic, way better than when he was just doing it to himself, like the rhythm and sensation was somehow unpredictable even though Ollie wasn’t making any effort to change it up. But it wasn’t enough. The pleasure was real, sparking behind his eyes with every movement Ollie made, but it wasn’t stoking that fire in his spine that spoke of a building orgasm. Ollie made a tiny mutter of frustration as if in agreement. From the sounds he was making he was jacking himself at the same time, and Tommy couldn't help but open his eyes to see. 

Ollie's eyes were closed; his head on the pillow beside Tommy's and his lower lip was clamped tight between his teeth. His breathing was coming in short huffs, and his hand on his dick was almost a blur. Suddenly his eyes opened and the frantic look in them stole Tommy's breath. 

He stopped moving and Tommy almost sobbed. 

"This isn't working," Ollie said, almost growling in frustration. 

"Maybe we need to call some girls," Tommy offered painfully. 

“That’s not it. It’s not that it’s you. It’s that it’s not enough.” 

“Oh. Well,” Tommy forced himself to smile. “It did seem as though I wasn’t really getting the full ‘Ollie Queen Experience’.” 

“The Oll… Dude. I’m not a carnival ride.” 

“Oh, ho! The parade of women in your bed, and your car, and the backroom, and the alley, and the…” Ollie growled and he continued quickly, “you know, whatever,…beg to differ. They _beg_ to differ.” 

“You don’t have the same bells and whistles as they do.” Ollie released him and threw himself on his back. 

“But I have the buttons and knobs that you do,” Tommy hated that he was whining but he was so fucking horny that he was seriously starting to consider just knocking himself out for twenty-four hours and hoping that his hard-on would go down on its own. His dick throbbed angrily at the thought and he groaned. “You know what _you_ like. Be creative!” 

Ollie snorted and Tommy turned his head to look, finding Ollie’s face inches away. When their eyes met, Ollie’s whole face softened and he smiled at Tommy with open affection. “Only you,” he murmured, “would give me grief about being inadequate in bed.” 

Tommy grinned back. “I am willing to be completely supportive and preach your skills to all and sundry,” he replied, “I swear it.” 

“What happened to never speaking of this again?” Ollie’s hand started to slide up the inside of his thigh and Tommy shuddered at the scrape of skin over his leg hair. 

“I’m willing to waive that proviso,” Tommy told him earnestly. 

Ollie laughed and leaned forward, wrapping his hand back around Tommy’s dick with gratifying pressure. “Buckle up,” he said, and licked Tommy’s nipple. 

“Oh.” Tommy shivered. “I liked that.” He looked down at the top of Ollie’s head. “You can do that again.” 

“God, Merlyn, _shut up_ and enjoy the parade.” 

“I thought you were a carnival ride?” Tommy wriggled as Ollie bit his nipple this time and then rolled it between his teeth. Each sharp little sensation went straight to his already aching dick. 

“I contain multitudes,” Ollie stroked him hard, adding a wicked twist at the end and rubbing his thumb under the head of Tommy’s dick. “Now shut up. I’m trying to concentrate.” 

“By all means.” Ollie stroked him again and Tommy squirmed. “Oh, I liked that!” Ollie lifted his head and glared and Tommy put up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry! Continue.” Ollie eyed him balefully and Tommy lifted an eyebrow with his best effort at a charming smile. “Please?” 

“You are such a pain in the ass.” Ollie slid down the bed, urging Tommy higher on the pillows. He marched his teeth down Tommy’s ribs, taking experimental bites. Each one sent little zips of electric pleasure buzzing under Tommy’s skin. Ollie smirked at the noises he made and gave encouraging squeezes with his strokes every time Tommy twisted against him. “Let’s try this.” 

He urged Tommy to spread his legs by the simple expedient of slapping his knee, making Tommy jerk away from the sting with a hiss. He rolled into the space between them with liquid grace that had Tommy gaping at him, then rose to his knees and shuffled forward until the front of his thighs pressed against the inside of Tommy’s. He fell forward onto one arm, bracing himself over Tommy’s stomach. Little drips of water fell from the hair that had fallen forward over his forehead, landing on Tommy’s abs with tiny cold splats that made him shiver. Ollie trailed the index finger of his free hand down Tommy’s ribs, carefully avoiding the ticklish spots, and slid it over the angle of his hip before curling his hand around Tommy’s erection. Tommy’s dick twitched gleefully at the touch, and he watched spellbound as Ollie smiled down at his dick before leaning forward and licking long stripe up his abs as he stroked up the shaft. 

“Oh! Remember, how I said I like it before? Lies, apparently, all dastardly lies, because _that_ , my friend, _that_ I liked. For real.” 

Ollie gave an aggravated little huff at his continued monologue, but that just blew air across the head of his dick and the wet strip on his stomach, and both parts of him just thought that was a fantastic idea. A whole body shudder raced through him. 

“That too, I, I liked that too.” 

Ollie glanced up at him, blue eyes glittering through his wet hair. 

“What? I believe in rewarding good outcomes and, and…” He swallowed hard as Ollie blew on him again with an evil grin, “Oh! And providing positive reinforcement when…” 

Ollie stroked his hand down his dick, then deliberately gave the head a long, hard lick with the flat of his tongue. It stole whatever thought Tommy had going and he slammed his head back into the pillow. His back arched and the noise that came from his throat was frankly embarrassing. When he caught his breath he looked back down his body, to where Ollie had stopped. Again. The _bastard_. 

“You stopped.” 

“I’m processing.” Ollie’s face was thoughtful and a bit distant. 

“Processing what? My impending heart attack?” Tommy hitched his hips and contemplated murder. 

Ollie’s eyes lifted to his. “How you taste,” he said candidly. “How you taste different to me.” 

Oh. That was just… “I think you need a bigger sample size,” Tommy told him fervently. 

Ollie smirked and lowered his head, this time taking the whole head of Tommy’s dick in his mouth. He hummed kind of thoughtfully and then swirled his tongue over the tip, and Tommy thought his heart would burst right out of his chest. Ollie’s mouth was fucking _amazing_. “Do not stop,” Tommy told him. 

Ollie moved his hand down Tommy’s shaft and his mouth followed in a blast of heat and wet and just unbelievable sensation. He twisted his hand at the base, took a deep breath in through his nose. His eyes fluttered closed, and then he _sucked_ on the upstroke, his cheeks hollowed. 

Tommy’s brain went _offline_. Any option of coherent thought was just gone. The obscenely hot image of Ollie’s lips stretched around his dick and the concentration on his face as he just kept _moving_ warred for the award for ‘most hot’ with the contrasting sensations of the rough hard pressure at the his root, so different from the way a woman felt, and the incredible suction and _heat_ and _wet_ of Ollie’s mouth… 

Fuck it. Whichever way Tommy cut it, Ollie won. 

His body was moving without him providing any form of conscious control. His hips were rocking up into Ollie’s hand, his mouth, his hands were twisting in the comforter in an effort to keep himself from grabbing Ollie’s head and just shoving him all the way down, and finally, _finally_ , he could feel the tightening in his balls that meant he was going to be able to come. 

“Ollie,” he gasped out. “I’m close.” 

Ollie hummed acknowledgement, curling his tongue around Tommy’s dick in an unexpected and totally awesome way that had his whole body jerking in reaction. 

“Holy shit.” Somehow, carefully, he managed to lift one hand and pat Ollie’s head. “Really… oh! Really close.” 

Ollie opened his eyes, lifted his head and stared Tommy directly in the eyes. “I heard you,” he said, his voice rough. “Now quit teasing and do it.” Deliberately he lowered his mouth back to Tommy’s dick and sucked him back in. His gaze bore straight in Tommy’s. 

Ok, so there was a new contender for ‘most hot’. And Ollie _still_ fucking won. 

Ollie slid his hand off the base of Tommy’s dick, slipped it around under his balls, and pressed hard on the tight skin underneath. 

That did it. 

The climax boiled up out of his spine and just ricocheted through his body, making him twist and jolt with each electric pulse. His hips jerked up hard and his hands found Ollie’s head, helplessly holding him in place as he thrust upwards into his welcoming mouth. Ollie just _took_ it, swallowing hard again and again as Tommy spent himself mindlessly. He was absently aware that he was shouting something that wasn’t anything like words. 

The sense of release when it subsided was incredible, almost better than the orgasm itself, and Tommy let his hands flop down by his sides and his whole body just collapse into a puddle. He opened his eyes and looked down at Ollie, who was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His wet hair was messy and his lips were red and wet, and an instant later Tommy was doing a crunch and just _hauling_ Ollie up his body to lie flat on top of him with an ‘oof’. 

His hands moved to the sides of Ollie’s face and he kissed him, hard. “Thank you,” he said fervently, almost frantic with relief, “thank you, thank you.” He kissed him again, open mouthed, with tongue. Ollie opened willingly enough, and Tommy dove deeper into the kiss. He tasted peaches and tequila, overlaid with a bitter astringent flavour that had to be _him_ , and the thought was enough to make his dick twitch with tired interest. He broke free to take a breath. “Wow, I taste terrible with peaches,” he said breathlessly. Ollie made a sound of agreement before Tommy was kissing him again. 

Ollie shifted, lifting his body away from Tommy’s and giving some complicated shimmy before setting back against him more comfortably. Tommy felt the slick, hot, hardness of Ollie’s erection in the crease of his thigh and pushed up against it. Ollie made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded suspiciously like a whimper. 

Tommy slid his hand between their bodies and took a firm grip on Ollie’s dick. It felt strange in his hand, already reasonably slick with lube and similar to how his own felt, but the ridges and shape were subtly different and the skin was a different texture. He gave it a squeeze and Ollie reared back to look at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. 

“Come on,” Tommy said softly, “Let’s finish this trip around the teacups.” 

Ollie snorted, so Tommy gave him another hard squeeze and tweaked Ollie’s nipple with his other hand. Ollie’s eyes fluttered closed and he lunged for Tommy’s mouth. This time he was in charge of the kiss and he took ruthless advantage of it, sucking Tommy’s lip between his teeth and biting gently before delving his tongue to play with Tommy’s. 

Tommy started rolling his hips. Ollie got the idea immediately and thrust down into Tommy’s fist as he pushed up. He dropped his mouth to Tommy’s shoulder and bit down as his whole body really got into it. He threw caution to the wind, reaching down to cover Tommy’s hand with his own and tightening the grip they had on him to what had to be painful levels. 

“That’s it, Ollie, come on,” Tommy muttered fiercely, “You’re so close, I can tell. Just let go. Come on, come on.” 

Ollie’s thrusts were getting ragged. Tommy turned his head and licked the junction of shoulder and neck before biting down. 

It was Ollie’s turn to shout as he shook violently, his hands slamming down on the bed on either side of Tommy’s shoulders and his hips snapping forward into Tommy’s fist. Tommy could feel the contractions of Ollie’s abs against his stomach and each pulse of orgasm through his fist. The growing wetness between them made his fingers slipperier and Ollie groaned as Tommy’s hand slid more freely along his length. With a final shudder he collapsed, his face in Tommy’s neck and their legs entwined. They were both breathing like they’d just tried to run a four minute mile. 

“Jesus fuck, Ollie,” Tommy managed to say. “You're better than a parade. Better than a carnival. You’re a full-fledged amusement park.” He poked Ollie hard in the ribs, getting a grunt for his troubles. “A heavy one, dude. Move.” 

Ollie rolled off him and sprawled out on his back, loose limbed and satisfied. 

Tommy looked down at the mess on his stomach and groin and winced. “Yuck.” 

Ollie waggled a finger in agreement. 

“So…” Tommy let his head flop back on the pillow before swiveling to look at Ollie out of the corner of his eye. “Shall I sing your praises, or is it never speak of this again?” 

“Eh,” Ollie shrugged unhelpfully. “I enjoyed myself,” he said, turning to look at Tommy dead on. “A lot. Enough to try it again sometime without the raging drug-induced hard-on and excruciating pain.” He smiled slowly. “Though honestly even that has its charms in the right circumstances.” 

“So you’re thinking more along the lines of private experience,” Tommy guessed tentatively. 

“I’m easy with whatever you want, Tommy,” Ollie told him softly. 

Tommy lifted an eyebrow. “Marry me?” He offered, then burst out laughing at the expression on Ollie’s face. “Your _face_.” 

“You’re an asshole,” Ollie told him, grinning. 

“Thank you,” Tommy said, suddenly serious. 

Ollie looked at him like he’d lost the plot. “For calling you an asshole?” 

“No.” Tommy said carefully. “For this.” He waved his hand at his now thankfully soft dick. “I know we don’t do this…” 

“Hey,” Ollie reached out and grabbed his bicep. The smell of peaches made his dick twitch again and he shot it a quelling look. It seemed unrepentant. “Hey,” Ollie shook him a little and he brought his attention back to his friend, who continued intently. “We were both in a bind, and we helped each other out. Learned some new things in the process. You never have to thank me for that.” 

“Ok.” Tommy nodded agreement. He rolled to his feet, grimacing at the sticking coldness on his stomach. “I need another shower.” 

Ollie wrinkled his nose. “Me too.” 

They both came to the realization at the same time. There was only likely to be enough hot water for one. 

It was a race. 

Tommy won. 

And _fuck_ no, he didn't share. 

-30-


End file.
